


Breakfast in Bed

by AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Children, F/M, Fluff, Food, Foreplay, Happy Steve Bingo, Humor, Interrupted Sex, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound
Summary: Children do really change things.  They also have terrible timing.For my 'Happy Steve Bingo' fill: Children





	Breakfast in Bed

Steve Rogers had taken to sleeping in.  It wasn’t something he’d ever predicted.  Even back before he’d joined the army he was up early.  Usually for school or because he was just in so much pain that he couldn’t sleep and his mother had run him a hot bath.

Since the army, early mornings were all he had known.  Up at dawn for training. Every day, rain or shine.  It had traveled through to his life after the army. When he first got out of the ice he’d wake and pace the streets, trying to find somewhere he didn’t feel so out of place.  Or he’d just hit the gym and put all his anger into the heavy bags.

As he began to find where he belonged he ran.  First by himself. Then later with Sam. He had kept up the morning runs for so long.  He was a morning person. He enjoyed getting going. Watching the sunrise as he appreciated how easily the air was pulled into his lungs.  How he could run and run and run and not feel pain.

He was a morning person.  Was.

Then the kids happened.

He had been so fucking cocky when you first got pregnant.  He bought a jogging stroller. He was going to wake up early, take the baby for a run around Central Park with Sam come home and bring you breakfast every day.

That didn’t happen.  Not ever.

Between four hour feeds and sleepless nights, Steve just got good at sleeping when he could.  For a while, that meant he was still up early in the morning. Though he always had that half-dead, zombie feel to being awake.  Like it was a mere technicality. He never wanted to run then that’s for sure. It was changing diapers and bouncing first Sarah, then Jamie and then Margaret on his hip while he tried to drink his own body weight in coffee in the hopes that one day his metabolism wouldn’t just burn through the caffeine, rendering it useless.  It was trying to get a baby to stop crying while he struggled to get a toddler to stay in their highchair and eat his breakfast.

The thing was, even at his most sleep deprived and stressed, he still loved it.  He had loved every moment since he’d met you. Every date. Every kiss. Every cuddle.  Every time you'd made love. From proposing to getting married to the day you'd decided to have children.

Each day of the long road it has taken to get here he'd fallen deeper in love and remembered more about who the person he was.  He had developed new aspects to himself too. Ones he really liked. So even sleep deprived and running on super serum he would have a smile on his usually serious face.

Then gradually things shifted again.  The kids got older. They slept through.  They started getting their own cereal on weekends and sitting with it watching Disney Channel together.

That's when Steve had started sleeping in.

It wasn’t every day.  There was still work and preschool and childcare and having to wrangle three children into the car so they wouldn’t be late.  Saturday’s were swimming lessons and pee wee soccer.

Sundays though… Sundays were a little bit magical.  There was no place you had to be. The kids took care of themselves.  Best of all, you slept in too. So he slept. There was a comfort of your body pressed against him.  He loved the sound of your deep breathing. The way it was the light and the far-off sound of cartoons playing in the living room that woke him up.  It was much better than the harsh buzz of his alarm going off or the pained cries of one of his children.

Today what dragged him out of his sleep was your stirring.  His arms tightened and he pulled you closer to him burying his face in the back of your neck.

“Morning,”  You mumbled and turned in his arms.

“It is a good morning,”  He rumbled. His voice still soft and gravelly with sleep.  He leaned in and kissed you. It started with a hard press of his lips on yours.  Not really intended to be anything other than a good morning kiss. You made it linger and the soft hum that escaped you made him want more.  He deepened it. His lips caressing over yours and his tongue barely teasing them open for him. He grabbed your thigh and pulled you closer, rolling his hips against you.

“Mmm…”  You hummed pulling back and sucking on his plump lower lip.  “You're playing a dangerous game, Rogers.”

“Danger is my middle name,”  He tried and rolled you over grinding down against you.  “Just be as quiet as you can.”

You giggled as he kissed you again.  Deeper and more passionate than before.  His hand roamed up under your sleep shirt and he ghosted his fingers along the underside of your breast.

He could hear moving around and giggling in the kitchen, but he wasn't concerned.  It was likely there would be a mess to clean up. Possibly they were seeing how many different spreads they could get on one piece of toast.

His mouth moved to your neck.  You made a sound that was half moan - half laugher and you bucked up against him.  His hands slid down to the waistband of your pajama pants and just as he slipped his fingers under the elastic he heard the muted footfalls of children running down the hall.

He rolled off you and sat up.  You only had time to look at him confused when Maggie and Jamie slammed the door open and came charging at you both, throwing their little bodies into bed and slamming against you both.

“Mommy, daddy, we maded you breakfast into bed!”  Jamie said proudly.

“Oh did you now?”  You asked.

“Yeth.”  Maggie lisped.  “Thara ith bwinging it.”

Like she had been summoned Sarah came walking into the room, each step taken at a slow careful shuffle, as she stared intently at the large tray she held in her hands like she was willing it not to spill.

“Here, Sarah.  Let me help you.”  Steve said moving to get out of the bed and rescue his oldest daughter.

“No, daddy.  I've got it.”  Sarah said. The little stubborn streak of hers fully on display.

Jamie pushed him back against the bed head and Steve shook his head, suppressing a laugh.  They were his kids alright. No one could ever argue that.

Slowly and carefully she put the tray on the bed.  Steve moved it to the middle assessing the selection.  There were two bowls of kix that had spilled over a little.  The milk pooling at the bottom of the bowls. A banana and an apple were just haphazardly thrown onto the tray.  As were a sleeve of what he could only assume was cinnamon apple Poptarts. On a small plate, each was too overcooked and now cold slices of toast with a generous schmear of grape jelly.

“Oh my, look what you guys did for us.  This looks wonderful. Thank you, my sweet ones.”  You said enthusiastically, as your eyes traveled across the tray.  They settled on the toast and you picked up a slice and took a bite.  It made a loud crunch under your teeth and partially shattered due to how hard the bread was.

“Did we do good?”  Jamie asked.

“You sure did, bud,”  Steve said picking up his spoon and dipping it in the cereal.

“You always make us breakfast we wanted to make it for you,”  Sarah said.

“I wanted to made pancaketh,”  Maggie added.

“I don't know how to,”  Sarah argued. “Besides we aren't allowed to use the stove.”

“It's perfect.”  You said.

Steve pulled Sarah up next to him and peppered her cheek with kisses.  “Thank you so much. We are very, very lucky.”

As his daughter giggled and squirmed beside him on the now very full bed, making more milk slop over the side of the bowl, Steve knew, he had never said anything truer.


End file.
